


Just A Pick-Up

by amyfortuna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-08
Updated: 2003-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/pseuds/amyfortuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos and Sirius pick each other up in a pub. Sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Pick-Up

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in 1978, a couple of years before Harry is born and Methos becomes Adam Pierson. You don't have to know both fandoms to be able to understand this story, but it would help to.
> 
> Quick Primer:
> 
> Methos is a five-thousand year old Immortal from the show Highlander. This story takes place several years before he appears on the show.
> 
> Sirius Black is Harry Potter's godfather. He has the ability of being able to change into a dog.
> 
> Remus Lupin is a good friend (according to canon) of Sirius'. He is also a werewolf.
> 
> * * *

The oddly dressed young man sliding into a seat at the bar about five feet away from him seemed a little nervous, Methos thought, setting down his beer.

Must be from the Continent, or maybe America, he reflected. Didn't seem to have clue about the money, didn't know what to order, used strange words for everyday things, stared around the small pub like he'd never been in one before, wore a white shirt and what looked like pajama bottoms, with open-toed sandals -- yeah, definitely American.

Or crazy.

On second thought, Methos shrugged, he was repeating himself.

Cute boy, though. Dark hair that was just above shoulder-length long, and curly, a fine curve of eyebrow, dimples when he smiled, a gorgeous mouth that looked like it was made to be fucked -- yes, worth getting to know indeed.

Methos turned toward him. There was no one between them on the seats.

"Can I buy you a drink, kid?" he said.

He got a bit of a glare before the boy turned on the charm.

"I'm not a kid," he said. "But yes, you may." Surprisingly enough, the boy had the posh accent of an English public school boy. Not American then.

When the boy's beer arrived, Methos lifted his own up.

"What's your name?" he asked the kid.

"Sirius," he answered. "Sirius Black." They toasted each other, laughing.

"Hi, Sirius, I'm -- Adam." Well, he wasn't yet, but soon would be. Considering his previous identity was supposed to be wasting away of cancer on a grand estate not far from here, it would be dangerous if he was caught out picking up cute eighteen-year-olds. So Adam it was.

"How old are you?" was his next question.

Sirius slid over into the seat next to Methos and took a gulp of beer before answering. "Eighteen," he smiled. "And you?"

Methos choked on his beer. "Twenty-six," he said, when he finished coughing. Hadn't expected that question.

"Just left school, huh?" he continued.

Sirius' eyes shifted, just a little, becoming wary. "Yes," he said. "I got my...." he trailed off, clearly at a loss.

"So what are you going to do now?" Methos asked. He hated to sound like an interrogator, but the kid was far too shy.

Sirius bit his lip anxiously. "Ummm...I'm not sure," he finally said.

"Sit around in pubs, look like a rent-boy, and pick up older men," Methos said. "Sure looks like what you're doing."

Sirius laughed for the first time. "That sounds like a plan!" He glanced over at Methos, a veiled invitation in his eyes. "Am I picking you up?" he asked.

Methos raised an eyebrow. "I hope so, because if you don't pick me up," he laid a hand on Sirius' thigh, "I'll pick _you_ up and carry you right out of here!"

Sirius gulped. "That sounds...very interesting indeed."

"I have a place." Their heads were close together and they were whispering, now.

"I'm free 'til tomorrow."

"What are we waiting for?" Methos tossed some money on the bar. "Let's go."

* * *

Methos had walked to the pub. Sirius, apparently, hadn't.

"Wanna ride with me?" he asked, patting the seat of a large motorbike.

"Sure," Methos answered, after a little thought. If he got thrown off of this thing, he would only lose an evening's entertainment, not an identity.

"Don't worry," Sirius laughed. "I'm a great driver. Remus is never scared when I take him out on this."

Not entirely reassured, Methos climbed up behind Sirius.

"Hold on tight," Sirius laughed, and pulled Methos' arms around him. "Now, where?"

"Not far," Methos said, and they started.

The motor hummed underneath them, and Methos was completely conscious of Sirius' slender weight in his arms, dark hair blowing in strands across his face. It almost reminded him of being on horseback, except that the being underneath him was not alive and smelled of gasoline. Sirius' body was warm against him, most desperately young, passionate, and alive.

This motorbike behaved oddly, at times, Methos noticed. Without warning, they would be at the front of a line of traffic, no clue how they got there. Or Methos would be sure they were going to crash into something, but he could swear it moved out of the way just before they smacked into it.

Arriving at Methos's rented flat, Sirius got off the bike, then held out a hand to Methos to help him down. They kept holding hands, even after Methos was on the ground.

"Isn't your first time, is it?" Methos asked -- he didn't really feel like breaking in a virgin tonight.

"God, no," Sirius laughed.

"Good," Methos said fiercely, and pulled Sirius to him. Their mouths met in a first passionate kiss.

* * *

Inside, Sirius seemed to relax quite a bit, though seemingly mystified at things like the television and the microwave.

"We didn't have these at school," he explained.

"I understand," Methos said. "They didn't have them when I went to school either."

Sirius moved away from the television and prowled over to Methos. "I want you to fuck me," he growled, winding his arms around the Immortal. "Fuck me 'til I can't see straight. I want to forget all this, just want it to be you pounding into me until I breathe only you, hear only you, see only you."

"I can do that," Methos said, and took the boy's mouth with his own, not gently. His hands came up to cup Sirius' head, and Sirius nipped at his tongue with teeth, lightly.

Sirius' shirt was on the ground, and there might have been some buttons missing, before the kiss ended.

"Bedroom, now!" Methos commanded, and pulled Sirius with him into the small room. The bed filled up most of it, but that didn't matter now. Methos pushed Sirius down onto it, and stripped away his pants, shoes with them. Sirius wore no underwear, and his cock was already half-hard as he writhed on the bed, staring up at Methos with a look of longing and lust.

"Oh, you *want* it," Methos growled, this time, and yanked at his own clothes, throwing them onto the floor next to Sirius'.

"Yes!" they both groaned as their bodies met. "Oh yes." And then they were kissing again, sliding against each other, fierce, strong, and hard.

Sirius' body was as wonderful as Methos had thought it would be. Perfectly defined muscles for someone so young, a chest covered with smooth dark hairs, white shoulders that did not look weak, and a perfect cock, hard, not too long, not too short, beautiful.

Methos spared a moment to worship that perfect body, laying open-mouthed kisses down the chest and belly to shaft and balls and, for half a second, what lay behind them.

"Want you," Sirius groaned. "Now!"

Methos pulled himself away, reaching into his bedside drawer for oil. Sirius let his thighs fall open wantonly as Methos slid back onto the bed beside him.

"Which way?" he asked.

"Like this," Sirius said, turning over, presenting white buttocks to Methos' gaze.

"Nice arse," Methos commented, and licked a trail down Sirius' back. He wasn't a virgin from his reactions, but he was tight, Methos thought. Two fingers, then....

"Enough," Sirius gasped. "Please."

Methos could not resist. Swiftly coating his own cock with oil, he tossed the small bottle aside, and pushed in carefully.

Sirius _growled_ beneath him, like a bitch in heat. The sound was incredibly arousing. Methos reached around to take hold of Sirius' cock, sliding a hand up and down it in time with his strokes.

He was surrounded by heat and sweat and a tight, willing body. So sweet, so hot! Methos leaned forward, biting gently into Sirius' shoulder.

That was all it took for Sirius. He came, hot liquid spilling over Methos' hand, howling at the sky. The convulsions around his cock were too much for Methos, and he came too, gasping. The world went grey.

When Methos came back to himself, he was lying next to Sirius, who was still breathing hard.

"Thank you," Sirius said, almost shyly. "You did make me forget everything, for just a little while there."

Methos was too tired to talk. "Glad I could help," he said.

They slept.

* * *

The next morning dawned early and slow. Methos found himself lying on top of the covers, no one next to him.

Sitting up, he caught the sound of noises coming from his bathroom. Sirius, it seemed, liked to sing in the shower. And more.

 _"Accio soap!"_ he heard him say. Methos shook his head. That wasn't...couldn't be...Sirius Black was a wizard?

Methos had known and loved a few wizards in his time. To find that this boy was one of them made him smile. So that was why he was so ill at ease in an English pub. He'd just gotten out of...what was it...Hogwarts, and was unaccustomed to living among "normal" people.

Where was his wand? Surely the kid hadn't had room on that outfit to carry it with him? Maybe he hadn't brought it, Methos reflected, looking through the odd pile of clothes on the floor, and picking his own out.

He was halfway dressed by the time Sirius came out of the bathroom.

"Sorry about the mess," Sirius shrugged, pulling his clothing off the floor.

"We got carried away last night, didn't we?" Methos said, sitting down on the bed. "But it was fun."

"It was," Sirius answered, putting on his pants.

"You're a wizard, aren't you?" Methos asked, calmly.

Sirius stopped in the middle of buttoning his shirt. "H-how did you know that?" he asked.

"Lucky guess," Methos answered, and walked over to Sirius, taking over the job of buttoning the shirt. "Listen, I may look young, but that doesn't mean I haven't experienced a lot."

"But wizards?" Sirius said.

"Yes, wizards," Methos answered, laying a hand on Sirius' shoulder. "You go be good, now, and I hope whatever it is your people are worried about gets its arse kicked soon."

Sirius smiled. "I wish that too."

* * *

After a hasty breakfast, Methos walked Sirius down to his motorbike.

Standing next to it was a young man with grayish-brown hair, looking worried. When he saw Sirius, the look changed from worried to relieved, then to god-almighty-pissed-off.

"Where the hell have you been?" he hissed under his breath at Sirius.

Sirius shrugged. "With him, Remus." He pointed to Methos, who took a step back.

Remus reached out and grabbed Sirius by the wrist. "How the fuck could you do that to me?" he whispered. "I've been out all night looking for you. I almost thought He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named took you."

"I'm fine, Remus," Sirius said. "And it was you who kicked me out last night."

"I didn't mean it, Sirius," Remus said. "I never mean it, it's just this damned...."

He glanced at Methos. "We'll continue this conversation at home," he said, and climbed onto the bike.

Sirius gave a sheepish grin to Methos. "Bye, Adam. See you around," he said, and started up the bike.

Methos shrugged, waved, and watched them until they were out of sight. Then he climbed the stairs back up to his flat, and sighing, started work on building a new identity in the Watchers.


End file.
